Chuck vs the Producers
by Notorious JMG
Summary: Team Bartowski won't let the producers of "Chuck" ruin their lives. After four seasons and eight chapters, this story is no longer appropriate for anybody with a sense of common decency.
1. Chuck

The red and white Toyota Yaris tore across the Warner Brothers lot at a speed that most people wouldn't have been able to handle. But the man behind the wheel drove with the righteous anger of one who has been severely mistreated.

With a cloud of dust and smoke, the Yaris screeched to a halt outside the offices labeled "Chuck". The driver's door flew open, and a tall, lanky, and INCREDIBLY angry man stood up out of the vehicle. Slamming the door shut, he marched toward the offices, his namebadge flipping about in the wind, his necktie flung carelessly over his shoulder.

Wrenching open the front door, he barreled directly past the weakly protesting secretary and burst through the door marked "Executive Producer". Two men sat inside – one at a desk, facing the door; the other, his back to the door. He spun around as both men stared in shock at the man who had just barged into the office.

"Uh… Chuck," the one behind the desk said. "We – uh, this is unexp-"

"Stick a sock in it, Schwartz," Chuck Bartowski replied angrily. "I have something to say, and you are damn well gonna listen, you got that?"

Schwartz nodded meekly.

"Alright, here's how it is. That thing on Monday night you called an 'episode'? I call that a forty-minute 'beat Chuck session'." Chuck paused. "You're a dick, Schwartz." Then he looked at the other man, and raised his middle finger. "Sit on it and rotate, Fedak."

Chuck took a breath and a step back. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go tell Sarah how I REALLY feel about her."

Fedak began to rise. "That's not an option, Chuck, she'll just shoot you do-"

"Bull," Chuck spat. "I've got Captain Awesome backstopping me, so I think I'll be quite all right. Meanwhile, the two of you can suck a big one."

He stormed out of the office. As soon as he was gone, Schwartz dove for the phone. "Casey? We have a problem!"

The door burst open again, to reveal a grimly smiling John Casey. "Yes, you most certainly do."


	2. Sarah

The black Porsche 911 took the corner at an impossibly high speed, scattering pedestrians as it roared through the gate off of Olive Avenue into Warner Bros. Burbank lot. The guard at the gate booth watched helplessly as the German sports car plowed through the gate, snapping off the wooden arm and sending it flying.

The 911 whipped across the lot, coming to a halt in a cloud of dust in front of an office with a sign that said "Chuck" on the front. The driver's door of the Porsche was flung open with such force that an observer might've thought it was just going to be snapped off.

A statuesque blonde, clad entirely in black, stood up. Sunglasses and a mask of rage covered her face. She held in her right hand a Colt M1911 handgun, safety off. She slammed the door of the Porsche shut and marched toward the offices.

She blew through the front door and blasted straight past the secretary, not even offering the poor woman a second glance. The door protecting her intended targets was locked, but no matter – she kicked the door in, her gun coming up as she entered the office like a small hurricane.

Josh Schwartz's face went white, his eyes growing wide as Sarah Walker marched into his office. On the couch to Sarah's right, Chris Fedak went very, very still – almost as if he hoped that if he didn't move, Sarah wouldn't see him.

"You have some EXPLAINING to do," Sarah spat.

"What?!" Josh protested. "We made Chuck look good! He got to be a hero! Hell, Cole even helped him out!" The color began to return to his face. "In fact, we thought you'd LIKE the fact that he took charge of the situation at the end!"

Chris Fedak started to very slowly creep down the couch. Without even looking, Sarah swung her gun to the right and put a bullet into the couch, barely a foot from Fedak's crotch. "You're not going anywhere," she growled. He went stock still.

She turned her gun back on Schwartz. "Tell me, Josh, when do I get to be happy?" She holstered her gun and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "How do you think it makes me feel when Chuck dumps me in the Orange Orange, and then three days later, dumps me in the courtyard of his apartment for the second time?!"

"He didn't dump you!" Chris Fedak interjected. "You weren't even together!"

"YOU WEREN'T THE ONE ON THE RECEIVING END!" Sarah shouted. "It might not have been a dumping in the technical sense, but it sure as hell FELT like one!"

"Christ on a crutch," Schwartz muttered. Opening his top desk drawer, he reached in and withdrew a script, which he tossed to Sarah. "Page 24," was all he said.

Sarah looked at him suspiciously, then looked at the cover page of the script. "Chuck 02.22," it read. In spite of herself, Sarah's curiosity was piqued.

Opening the cover, she flipped through the pages till she reached page 24. She started reading, and a page and a half later, nearly dropped the script.

She looked up at Schwartz, disbelief on her face. "You're screwing with me here."

Schwartz shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Believe it or not, that's for real."

Sarah nodded. "Well." Despite her residual anger, a smile began to spread across her face. "That's more like it."


	3. Captain Awesome

Josh Schwartz could tell that something was wrong as he entered the production offices for _Chuck_. There was just something in the air… something amiss.

His guard was up as he entered his office, finding it dark. It was never dark – he always left a light on, or the blinds open –

But perhaps it was dark because of the two figures sitting on his couch. Josh gulped. "Uh, I don't know who you are," he squeaked, "but you can't be here…"

And with that, a hand reached up and opened the blinds, revealing the two figures to be a very annoyed looking Chuck Bartowski and a downright pissed off Devon Woodcomb. "Oh, Christ," Schwartz muttered.

"Really, bro?" Devon asked, his voice tight and carefully controlled. "Seriously? I'm, what, a month from getting married, and you throw this particular monkey wrench into it? Are you mentally damaged?"

Schwartz shook his head. "What do you want from me, Devon?" he asked. "I have bosses to answer to. I have a network to answer to. They want ratings."

"So you get those ratings at the expense of my relationship with my fiancée," Devon growled angrily. "NOT awesome."

"Yeah, wait a second," Chuck interrupted. "You want higher ratings, and yet you have an imminent kiss between me and Sarah at the end of the episode get interrupted by my drain-on-society father?" Chuck shook his head and snorted. "Where'd you learn how to make TV shows, the Internet?"

"Hey!" Schwartz shot back, offended. "I was responsible for _The OC_ and _Gossip Girl_, bub."

"Yeah, lotta good that did you," Devon scoffed. "_The OC_ went downhill after the first season, and _Gossip Girl_ pulls, what, two million viewers an episode?"

"Oh, give me a break," Josh Schwartz grumbled. "What exactly have you done for society lately?"

Devon shot Schwartz an _are-you-kidding-me_ look. "Does open heart surgery count?"

Schwartz hung his head. "Goddammit," he muttered. "Fine. Does it help that the season finale is called 'Chuck vs. the Ring'?"

Chuck and Devon looked at one another. "Not particularly," Chuck replied, turning back toward Schwartz. "I seem to recall that I spent the finale last season chasing, survey says, A RING, around the bottom of a Dumpster!"

Devon turned to Chuck, a look of wide-eyed anger slowly appearing on his face. "It was in a DUMPSTER?!"

"Oh… shit," Chuck muttered. "Forget I ever said that."

"You know what?" Schwartz interrupted. "I don't have time for this. Devon, you're getting married. Chuck, if you're LUCKY and you LEAVE ME ALONE, you might just get laid."

Devon and Chuck looked at each other. "Well, I'm good with that," Devon said. "You, Chuck?"

"Yeah, that's fi – WAIT," Chuck stopped himself. "With who?!"

"Oh, for God's sake," Josh Schwartz groaned, rolling his eyes. "You do remember that little discussion we just had about ratings?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Then who the hell do you THINK?!"

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying…" He stopped, leaving the unspoken question hanging in the air like a six hundred pound gorilla.

Schwartz closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "God almighty," he muttered. "You know. Blonde hair, blue eyes, nice figure?"

Chuck grinned and turned toward Devon. "Well, that sort of describes him…"

Josh Schwartz's head whipped up, a look of rage on his face. "GET OUT!" he roared. "GET OUT, OR SO HELP ME, I WILL PUT SARAH WALKER IN A CONVENT, AND THEN THERE WILL BE NO GETTING ANY FOR YOU!"

Chuck's grin got bigger. "Thank you for that confirmation. We'll be going now."

As soon as Chuck and Devon left, Josh Schwartz collapsed in his desk chair. Picking up his phone, he called his secretary. "Alright," he said. "Listen. Call up the NBC promo monkeys. Tell them that from now on, promos get made MY way."

He listened for a moment as his secretary spoke. "I don't care what Jeff Zucker thinks!" he shot back. "Tell him that if he interferes with my show one more time, I'm gonna get Keith Olbermann to say that he's the worst person in the world!"

Schwartz paused as his secretary spoke again. "Okay, you know what?" Schwartz said slowly. "I want you to send this message to Jeff Zucker – 'America wants to see Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker get freaky. Who am I to deny what America wants?'"

He slammed the phone down and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "God help me if I ever have to cancel the show."


	4. Team Bartowski

1… 2… 3…

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Uh, no. This is actually a fairly bad idea. But I think we have to do it."

4… 5… 6…

"You do realize that if this doesn't go well, we're all in serious trouble."

"Considering there's a whole new ring of rogue spies out there to give us trouble… I'm hardly concerned."

7… 8… 9…

"So what's the plan?"

"Who said there's a plan?"

10… 11… 12…

"We're just going to go in there without a plan? Have you lost what little mind the upload left you with?"

"Oh, that's original. Calling me stupid. It's time for some new material, Colonel."

13… 14… 15…

"Would the two of you just knock it off?"

"Is there any sort of incentive for me to knock it off?"

16… 17… 18…

"You know what your incentive is…"

"Oh, Reagan help me. I think I'm gonna be sick."

19… 20… 21…

"Come on, big guy. I seem to recall being stuck under a bed while you and that French secret agent –"

"One more word, and I will end you."

22… 23… 24…

"We're here."

25.

The elevator doors opened, and three black-clad figures stepped out. Chuck Bartowski and John Casey were both dressed in tailored Armani suits, whereas Sarah Walker had gone a little crazy at Barney's New York. Chuck had also insisted that they keep their sunglasses on – "Gives it a bit of a _Matrix_ vibe," he explained, in all his nerdish sincerity.

The trio drew more than a few strange looks as they strode down the twenty-fifth floor corridor of 30 Rockefeller Plaza. Nobody approached them, though – there wasn't a soul on the executive floor who didn't know why these three were here.

A receptionist stood up when they entered the outer part of the executive office. "Uh… can I help you?" he asked.

"Move," John Casey growled.

"What? You can't just go in there, you know," the receptionist said meekly.

An evil smile appeared on Casey's face – and a Glock 37 appeared in his hand. "Once again, MOVE."

The receptionist's eyes widened – and he moved. Rapidly.

Chuck, Casey, and Sarah breezed past the reception desk. Sarah tried the knob of the door in front of them – locked. "Casey?"

John Casey aimed his Glock at the upper hinge and fired. Wood splintered, and the door sagged. Raising his left foot, Casey delivered a powerful kick, and the door marked "JEFFREY ZUCKER, PRESIDENT & CEO, NBC UNIVERSAL" fell inward.

As the three marched into Jeff Zucker's office, the bald chief of NBC Universal looked at them in astonishment, the phone handset in his hand clearly forgotten. As the color drained from his face, he lifted his phone back to his ear. "I'll have to call you back," he said quietly, before replacing the handset in its cradle.

He rose unsteadily from behind his desk, his eyes never leaving the gun in John Casey's hand. "Mr. Bartowski, Colonel Casey, Agent Walker," he said. "What can I do for you?"

Chuck's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Zucker. Do you remember, a couple years back, Natalie Portman hosted _Saturday Night Live_?"

A confused look appeared on Zucker's face. "Uh… yes?"

A thin smile appeared on Chuck's face. "On that episode, she did a digital short that Andy Samberg produced. She had a line in that short… the exact wording escapes me…"

"Smack the shit outta Jeff Zucker," Sarah interjected drily.

"Thank you," Chuck replied.

"You see, we're not amused by this whole 'delay till May 19th' bit," Casey added. "Makes us nervous."

"And we don't like being nervous," Chuck said.

"Look," Zucker replied, "I really – I don't know what to tell you."

Chuck looked at Casey, who looked at Sarah. The blonde agent raised an eyebrow. "Wrong answer," she said.

Sarah's hand moved behind her back, and whipped back out again, a silenced Colt 1911 handgun coming out. Three _pops_ later, the window behind Zucker's desk shattered and tumbled toward the street below.

Just as quickly, John Casey had moved to where Zucker stood and grabbed him by the lapels. He bodily moved the smaller man to the empty space where his window had been and slammed him down against the window sill, dangling his upper body out over Rockefeller Plaza.

Chuck slowly walked up behind Casey and stood at the window sill, looking down at Zucker. "Well, Mr. Zucker, you seem to find yourself in a bit of a predicament," he said calmly.

"LET ME GO!"

"Oh, you REALLY don't want me to do that," Casey growled.

Jeff Zucker looked back up at the NSA agent and the human Intersect, a terrified look on his face. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?! JUST TELL ME!"

Chuck smiled. "I think you know what we want."

"WHAT?!"

"A third season," Chuck replied. "A full order of twenty-two episodes, beginning in October and going through May."

"Oh, and there's another thing," Sarah added, crossing the office. "We want the network to stop interfering with our relationship. Me and Chuck. We know that's why Schwartz and Fedak haven't let us get together yet – you bastards meddling in the name of ratings."

Zucker frowned. "What?"

"Women have needs too, bub," Sarah snarked.

"Fine!" Zucker gasped. "Just, pull me up!"

Casey growled, but pulled up the CEO of NBC Universal nonetheless. Shakily, Zucker went to his desk and picked up the phone. "Uh… I need somebody to get Warner Brothers on the phone," he said, his voice trembling as he spoke to his receptionist. "They need to get to work on _Chuck_."

"Damn straight," Casey grunted behind him. Sarah and Chuck looked at each other happily.

Jeff Zucker turned around. "Now, please, get out of my office. And you two –" he pointed toward Chuck and Sarah, who were staring at each other with distinct pent-up lust – "please wait till you're out of the building."

25… 24… 23…

"Well, that went well, I thought."


	5. Adorable Psycho vs Castle

_Thanks to **wepdiggy** for letting me borrow a toned-down version of the Adorable Psycho version of Sarah for this chapter of _Chuck vs. the Producers_. I've needed to get this off my chest about the bullshit season finale of _Castle_ for a while now. Specifically, the part where I stood up from my couch and shouted, "FUCK YOU, ANDREW MARLOWE!" at my television._

_Enjoy!_

_

* * *

_

It was nice, having Sarah living with him. Sure, she was a bit of a slob sometimes, but only to the extent where she tended to leave her skimpy lingerie lying wherever it had been tossed the night before, and Chuck certainly wasn't going to object to that.

It was also nice to be able to come home every day and know that Sarah was going to be waiting for him. He called her every day when he left work, and since she still worked in Burbank and he now worked way out on Topanga Canyon Blvd., she was always home long before he was.

However, it looked like today was going to be one of those less than great days. When he opened the door, the first thing he saw was five of Sarah's throwing knives, embedded in a perfect pentagon in the center of his television.

Chuck sighed. This wasn't the first time she had destroyed one of his televisions. Fortunately, the CIA was very understanding about it, and always replaced them for him.

Walking up to the TV, Chuck pulled Sarah's knives out of it. Then, he turned and headed for the bedroom.

"Honey, I'm home," he said, a light tone to his voice as he walked into the bedroom. "Sorry I'm late… traffic on the 101 was brutal."

Then, he set the knives down on the dresser. "Also, when I got home, I found your throwing knives in the television… that was unexpected."

Sarah mumbled something under her breath that Chuck couldn't understand. "What was that?"

"I said, the knives were only in the television because Andrew Marlowe wasn't available to throw them at him."

Ah. "You finally watched the _Castle_ season finale, then?"

"Yes, and Rick Castle is a stupid fucking man whore."

Chuck nodded. "I kind of figured you were going to have that reaction." _Especially considering the way you reacted after the _Fringe_ season finale_, Chuck thought to himself. Sarah had been furious about Alt-Livia trapping Olivia Dunham in the alternate universe, meaning she was going to be apart from Peter Bishop for God knew how long. That too had cost Chuck a television, not to mention J.J. Abrams and Bad Robot Films filing a restraining order against Sarah.

"No, I'm serious, Chuck!" Sarah complained. "That bastard walked away from Kate Beckett for that evil hag of an ex-wife!"

"I know, Sarah."

"Don't patronize me, Chuck," Sarah growled. "Kate didn't deserve that. Not when she just realized how she really felt about Castle." She stopped for breath. "And it's all Andrew fucking Marlowe's fault!"

Turning away from Chuck, Sarah dove for her cell phone. "I'm gonna get hold of his phone number and give him a piece of my mind."

"No, no you're not," Chuck said, quickly moving to her side and pulling the cell phone out of her reach. "The last thing we need is to have to replace your phone. Again."

Sarah's last phone had been thrown against the wall following – no, during the _Grey's Anatomy_ finale.

"Fine," she grumped. "At least admit that men are bastards."

"Men are not all bastards," Chuck argued. "And besides, Rick Castle's a fictional character."

"He's a rat bastard man whore fictional character."

"Okay," Chuck agreed. "I'll give you that."

"Kate didn't deserve that."

Chuck started to smile a little. "No, no she didn't."

"Because Kate Beckett is an AWESOME and strong woman, and when she decides to go for a man, he should goddamn well be grateful!"

Uh-oh. This was starting to get onto dangerous ground. "Yep."

Sarah whirled on Chuck. "You don't think Stana Katic is better looking than me, do you?"

"No, ma'am," Chuck replied. He knew better than to say anything else by now.

"Why the hell not?" Sarah asked. "Stana Katic is a hot, hot woman. I'd do her."

Chuck raised an eyebrow, and before he could stop himself, the words came pouring out. "Would you now."

Sarah grinned. "Is that something you'd like to see, Chuck? Me and Stana Katic together?"

Chuck's eyes widened. "Uh… uh…"

Sarah tilted her head and smiled sweetly. "I hereby invoke my fifth amendment right to not incriminate myself."

"Good answer, sweetie," Sarah said. "Now, do me a favor and wipe all thoughts of Rick Castle from my head."

Chuck grinned. "Your wish is my command."

_*fifteen minutes later*_

"Holy crap," Sarah wheezed as she fell back on the bed. "I need to watch shows like that more often. The angry sex that follows… my God."

Chuck didn't say anything, just lay on the bed with a gigantic grin across his face.

"Was that good for you, baby?" Sarah asked.

"Uh-huh…"

"When you recover, can we go again?"

"Yep…"

"Is Rick Castle a rat bastard man whore piece of shit?"

"Whatever you say, dear."


	6. Have You Ever Seen a Bigger Cockblock?

There was a thud against the door of the _Chuck_ production offices at the Warner Brothers lot. Chris Fedak looked up in surprise, then stood and crossed the office.

Opening the door, he discovered Josh Schwartz standing in front of him. Schwartz looked confused and dizzy, and had blood trickling down his face. But in the middle of his forehead…

Fedak frowned. "Josh… do you have… a diamond ring embedded in your forehead?"

Schwartz frowned. "I don't want to talk about it."

"It was her, wasn't it?" Fedak asked, a grin appearing on his face. "I TOLD you that was a bad idea."

"Shut up," Schwartz shot back. "I told YOU, I don't want to talk about it."


	7. Bridezilla

For the first time that any of them could remember, Josh Schwartz and Chris Fedak were sitting down – voluntarily – at a conference table with Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker. The meeting had the appearance of being downright civil.

Unfortunately, the topic of this meeting was going to be something of a downer, and Schwartz and Fedak both knew how Sarah got when she was unhappy. As such, they had asked Robert Duncan McNeill to join them for the meeting - "After all," Fedak had rationalized, "he was the pilot of the starship _Voyager_. Surely he's got some sort of skills. Maybe."

"Well," Josh Schwartz said, after everybody was seated, "I'm sure you all know why we're here."

"Unfortunately, yes," Chuck Bartowski replied with a subdued voice. "It's because right now, some of the crappiest shows on television have a better chance of being renewed than we do."

"That, sadly, is very true," Chris Fedak said. "Don't get me wrong, we're still holding out hope – Warner Brothers is going to really push for one more twenty-two episode season, because that'll get us to the 100 episode mark, which is sort of the magic number for syndication."

"Also, we're hoping that NBC will keep in mind that we're up against _Dancing With the Starfuckers_ all season long," Schwartz added, "along with the fact that we got considerably better ratings than _Fringe_, which FOX renewed.

"What it comes down to, though, is that we need to be prepared to call it a day after the season finale, and we wanted to make sure you guys are going to be okay with it."

Chuck and Sarah looked at each other, and then both turned their gazes back toward the producers. "It's been a good run," Chuck said. "Four years? That's not bad for a show, especially considering we had to contend with the Writers' Strike and the Winter Olympics."

"Agreed," Sarah added. "I'm ready for us to settle down and really start our family. The only thing I'm concerned about is our wedding going well."

That's when things started to go bad, as Chris Fedak and Josh Schwartz just sort of looked at each other, and then turned their gazes to McNeill.

"Well..." he said. "Here's the thing -"

And before he could say anything more, Sarah was out of her chair and had leaped down the length of the table, slamming McNeill to the floor. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" she shouted. "IF YOU MESS WITH MY WEDDING, I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY SHOE!"

"Sarah..." Chuck said quietly. "Sarah, please don't hurt Tom Paris. It would make me an unhappy Trekkie."

Sarah just growled, then stood up, and departed the room in a huff. Chuck turned and looked at Schwartz and Fedak. "Guys, please don't mess with the wedding."

"Yeah," Josh Schwartz said with a nod. "I think we know better at this point."

As Chuck headed out of the room, he stopped to help Robert McNeill up. "I don't know how you live with her," McNeill said to Chuck. "I'd go crazy."

Chuck shrugged. "Perhaps. But the thing is, she gets like this... I get angry sex." A huge smile broke out on his face. "Nothin' quite like it."

And he walked out of the room as well.

The three producers just stood, staring out the door after Chuck had left. Finally, Chris Fedak spoke.

"I'm going to go bleach my brain."


	8. Decency Takes a Hike

It had been a mildly rough week for Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Wal- no, Bartowski as well.

First, Schwartz and Fedak had tried to kill Sarah. The fucking audacity. Now Chuck knew how Sarah had felt when she had threatened to kill Robert Duncan McNeill. Chuck was right up there with her now. Those two needed to be dead. How DARE they.

Then, because of their machinations, Chuck had had to bring in the freakin' SPETSNAZ in order to get the proper antidote to Sarah. Sure, he had managed to turn Vivian Volkoff back to the good side of the Force – something he never should have had to worry about in the first place, but NO Schwartz and Fedak just HAD to manufacture drama.

It was all ridiculous. In fact, up until the wedding, the sole bright spot had been the news that NBC had renewed them for a final thirteen episode run, and they now KNEW when they were ending.

The group of civilians formerly known as Team Bartowski had been less than thrilled when they were run out of the CIA by, as Morgan so succinctly put it, the "douche", but oh well. Chuck and Sarah now had $877 million to their name, as well as an electronics store and – oh, this was the kicker – a secret freakin' lair.

When Chuck had realized that he now OWNED his own secret lair, he had just about jizzed in his pants, Andy Samberg style.

And so, Chuck and Sarah were nestled quite cozily in the Buy More home theatre room – which, Chuck reflected, was really now HIS home theatre room – having just watched the Season 4 finale with a relatively approving eye, when Morgan came bursting in, all out of sorts.

"You guys!" he announced, his voice thick with worry. "Oh, we've got a problem. BIG PROBLEM."

Chuck grinned and looked up at Morgan. "Did you flash, buddy?" he asked. "Trust me when I say, you'll reach a point where you get used to it and you don't think everything's a big prob…"

His voice trailed off as he caught sight of the look on Morgan's face. It was a rather serious look, one which said that Morgan was not reporting on something trivial. "Uh-oh," Chuck said. "What?"

Morgan held up a DVD. At first, Chuck didn't realize what the problem was – it simply looked like the cover of the Season 2 DVD set. But then, he realized one very, very important discrepancy –

"OH MY GOD!" Sarah blurted. "Please, oh please, tell me that that doesn't say what I think it says."

Chuck couldn't tear his gaze away. _This Ain't Chuck XXX Parody_, the cover said. "Oh, boy," Chuck breathed.

"Four one hour episodes," Morgan read off the back, his voice hollow. "Starring Brooke Banner as Sarah Walker, Nina Hartley as General Diane Beckman, and Irene Demova as Dr. Eleanor Bart-"

"If you finish that sentence, I will hurt you," Chuck growled. "Dammit, what the hell are we gonna do?"

"Watch them."

Both Chuck and Morgan turned to Sarah, eyes wide in disbelief. "Uh… what?" Chuck finally sputtered.

Sarah shook her head, a very serious look on her face. "We have to make sure that we haven't been compromised in any way."

"I think it's a little late for that," Chuck muttered darkly.

"No, I mean security-wise," Sarah sighed. "We have to make sure that there isn't anything on there that could compromise security."

Morgan stared at Sarah. "So, what, we're just going to sit here and watch four hours of porn?"

Sarah reached out and took the case from Morgan. "No, Chuck and I are going to sit here and watch four hours of porn. YOU are going back outside and making sure that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES does anybody even TRY to enter the home theatre room."

_FOUR HOURS LATER_

"I can't believe you had sex with Cole Barker."

"Chuck…"

"And SHAW!"

"Chuck!"

"I mean, come on, I expected Bryce, but –"

"Oh, don't you start with me, mister. What about the army of half a dozen skanks you just banged your way through?" Sarah glared at Chuck. "Lou, Jill, Hannah, Agent Forrest, Vivian Volkoff, CARINA, for God's sake -" She cut herself off and growled, stomping her foot like a petulant child. "I swear to you, if I ever, EVER find the real life you handcuffed to Carina's bed…" Sarah's voice trailed off, and her eyes narrowed. "By the way, you had BETTER have a VERY good explanation of why your eyes were glazed over during that scene of me with Jill."

Chuck's eyes widened. "Uh… I mean, I was… I was still in shock from the scene before."

Sarah thought back – "Oh, Jesus," she muttered. "Yeah, that's fair. I mean, I understand General Beckman and Roan Montgomery are big, bad spies and all, but… I mean…"

"I don't have a CLUE how they managed to do that… whatever they did there," Chuck shuddered. "Also, Morgan having a threesome with Alex and El- El- oh, God, I'm not finishing that thought."

Sarah sighed. "I gotta say, the C.A.T. Squad thing wasn't that inac- uh, um, bad."

Chuck's head whipped around so fast Sarah was afraid his neck was going to break. "I'm sorry," he said, "it wasn't that INACCURATE?"

Sarah glared at him. "If you like having sex with me, you will never mention it again. Clear?"

"Clear."

That's when there was a knock at the door. Chuck sighed. "Enter at your own risk!"

John Casey stuck his head in the door, a puzzled look on his face. "Grimes said that the two of you were in here… watching porn?"

Chuck just shook his head and tossed the case to Casey. Casey started reading the back. "Brooke Banner… Nina Hartley… Irene Demova…" he mumbled – and then his back went stiff. "With Amy Reid as Alex McHugh?" he growled, squeezing the case so tight that it started to crack.

"Casey –"

Casey looked at Chuck and let loose with grunt #1 – _people are going to die_. "If you'll excuse me," Casey said, his voice tight and controlled, "I have an appointment with Larry Flynt."

Casey disappeared. "Well…" Chuck fell silent for a moment, and then looked over at Sarah. "I'm thoroughly scarred."

"Yeah, me too," Sarah agreed. "But… I gotta admit…"

"Let me guess… after all that, you want to be the Adorable Psycho for awhile?"

"Plow me, big boy!"

_fin_


End file.
